Chapter 14: Bloody Battle

Chapter 14: Bloody Battle

Both sides reacted simultaneously, and a brutal battle erupted!

"Kill them!!!"

"Avenge the High Priest!!!"

The Intestines Cult members let out gut-wrenching screams, desperately charging toward the altar. Those burned by the flames threw their bodies onto the fire, clearing a path for their comrades behind them.

Meanwhile, the Cleaners on the altar fought like madmen for survival, swinging their weapons recklessly and incinerating everything with the sun-bestowed flame. To advance meant facing enemies; to retreat meant certain death!

The tall and burly Xin Lei brandished two great sabers, transforming into a fiery whirlwind as he carved a path through the cultists. A layer of golden-red light enveloped his body like armor, making him fearless of flames and scorching heat.

Fu You wielded a fine sword with surprising skill, elegantly twirling it in a flourish. Despite his flashy moves, it took him a long time to just barely manage to kill one enemy. By then, A Xi had already clubbed two Intestines Cult members to death with a fiery cudgel.

Those who couldn’t wield weapons simply picked up large axes and hammers. Driven by the raging flames, they swung and hacked wildly, their eyes bloodshot and voices hoarse from roaring. Most of them had never imagined they would fight so desperately, screaming and biting like wild beasts. It was a transformative ordeal—if they could return to reality alive, they would become entirely different people.

To return from the Three Evil Paths is to cease being human. The reek of blood and smoke would forever linger in their dreams, which is why many, even after fulfilling their desires, would eventually return to the game.

The altar was engulfed in a sea of fire, and the High Priest stood by the bonfire like a monarch inspecting her fearless soldiers.

Song Ziming took up a position on high ground behind the crowd, calmly firing bullets to support his teammates. Xie Yunzhu stood with his back to him, still using that curved bow while Furball handed him arrows one by one from the quiver. Xie Yunzhu drew and shot with composure.

Though slower than bullets, his arrows were powerful and precise, each one aimed at the most ferocious cultists, blowing their heads apart upon impact.

Before this, he had never flaunted his extraordinary archery skills, yet he performed effortlessly, like an unwavering pillar for the group—no one knew his limits.

Only Furball, standing closest to him, could sense that Xie Yunzhu was exhausted. The muscles in his forearm twitched from overexertion, and several times he couldn’t even draw the bowstring fully. The arrows picked up from the battlefield were mostly damaged, and soon a loose fletching cut a bloody gash across his thumb webbing.

Yet his focus remained unwavering, his eyes tracking his targets, his blue pupils piercing with cold killing intent. If he hadn’t wiped the blood off on his clothes for better grip, Furball might have thought he didn’t even notice the injury.

Somehow, despite not having a heart, Furball felt as if his very core was about to shatter. Anxious and unsure what to do, he climbed onto Xie Yunzhu’s shoulder, stretched out his tentacles, and wrapped them around the bloodied hand.

"Let go," Xie Yunzhu growled lowly.

Furball didn’t release him. Instead, he enveloped Xie Yunzhu’s fingers tightly with his tentacles. "I’ll hold it steady. You aim."

Xie Yunzhu paused. Furball’s tentacles felt cool and soft, almost watery, but the strength was real—firm enough to steady the bowstring, even more stable than his own hand.

As Xie Yunzhu released his nearly numb hand, Furball pulled the bowstring taut for him, and Xie Yunzhu adjusted their aim slightly.

Now—the thought had barely crossed his mind when Furball, as if reading his thoughts, released the tentacles!

*Twang!* The bowstring vibrated, and their first coordinated shot was perfectly executed, hitting an Intestines Cult member squarely between the eyes.

"Whoa!" Furball exclaimed excitedly. "A Zhu is amazing!"

"Again," Xie Yunzhu said, drawing another arrow and naturally syncing with Furball. With each shot, their tacit understanding grew, until it felt as though he was using his own hand.

For three years, he had faced every danger alone and made it through. He had never realized he could cooperate with someone to this extent—as if… as if he once had a comrade he could trust with his back, someone who understood him without words.

In the end, they shot all their arrows together, leaving a mountain of Intestines Cult members dead by their hands.

The meat grinder of a melee lasted nearly twenty minutes. The cultists, fearless and tireless, fought until the last one fell, bringing the bloody battle to an end.

Amid the pervasive stench of char and decay, ragged breaths filled the air, followed by a trembling voice: "Did we… did we win?!"

"They’re all dead, damn it! That fire was so effective, we wiped them all out!"

"Oh god, we actually won…" The newcomer who shouted victory was crying—not tears of joy, but pure, purgative wailing. As the battle fervor cooled, he began trembling and vomiting violently.

The other surviving Cleaners weren’t much better off, collapsing exhausted on the ground, drenched in sweat and mucus, gasping like dying fish.

Xie Yunzhu was one of the two who hadn’t engaged in close combat, so aside from his hand injury and muscle fatigue, he was relatively fine—this level of bloodshed wasn’t even worthy of being nightmare material for him. Standing high, he resembled a crow circling a battlefield, his alert eyes still scanning for movement.

Furball, however, seemed spent. Deflated like a punctured ball, he could no longer cling securely to Xie Yunzhu’s collar and slipped slickly down his chest, barely catching onto his waistband at the last moment.

Xie Yunzhu picked him up, intending to scold him, but noticed Furball was listless, his usually bright eyes dim and nearly extinguished.

Right, such a tiny being must have given his all to accomplish what he did. Xie Yunzhu felt an inexplicable tenderness and cupped him into an oval shape with both hands. "Why push yourself so hard?"

Furball’s eyelids drooped. "Because… huff… you’re my… devotee…"

"Wouldn’t it be the same whoever picked you up? If someone else found you, you’d foolishly love them just the same."

"No… not anyone else. You found me… I only have you…" Furball breathed weakly.

"Then you’re out of luck," Xie Yunzhu continued to knead him softly. "If you give a little to others, you get a little back. If you give me ten thousand, I can only give you zero."

Furball didn’t respond; he was already exhausted into a deep sleep, his tentacles clinging tightly as if holding a priceless treasure.

"Silly furball." Xie Yunzhu pinched his deflated belly, tossed him back into the bag, and took out a medical kit to bandage his wound. The cut should have torn open from repeated strain, but thanks to Furball, it hadn’t worsened. This faint sense of being cared for felt strange to Xie Yunzhu.

Everyone had sustained injuries, minor or severe. Once they regained some strength, they began checking each other’s wounds. Suddenly, Hei Bei’s agonized wail cut through: "Come quick! Huang Botao’s stomach is torn open!"

The newcomer Huang Botao was a quiet, honest man who had joined to pay off family debts. He had fearlessly charged ahead during the battle, only to be gutted.

Hei Bei desperately tried to hold his stomach together, but the wound was too large, and everything kept spilling through his fingers. Huang Botao looked dazed, muttering, "So cold… I’m cold…"

He lifted his head, confused. "Is it dark already?"

"No! Open your eyes wide—the sun is still in the sky! Hold on, don’t close your eyes, please…"

Xie Yunzhu came over to assess his condition and shook his head at Hei Bei.

Huang Botao’s face quickly lost color. Surrounded by helpless comrades, he stopped breathing within moments. The emotional Hei Bei let out a heartrending cry, while others silently reddened their eyes.

For their fallen companion, for this hopeless dungeon, for themselves struggling like ants to survive.

Suddenly, a large shadow fell over them—the High Priest had arrived.

Hei Bei grabbed the hem of her robe, shouting desperately, "You’re the great priestess, you can save him, right? Save us! You’re so powerful, so amazing… why didn’t you help earlier?! Are we just your expendables? Mmmph—"

Xiao Tu covered her boyfriend’s mouth and dragged him back.

The High Priest hadn’t intervened, but she looked weary and drained, and even the bonfire on the altar had dimmed.

Her movements were peculiar. She bent down, slowly lifting Huang Botao’s corpse, then made a "tsk" sound with her tongue as if releasing a hidden blade. Everyone watched in horror as Huang Botao’s neck was severed cleanly, blood gushing out.

The High Priest discarded his body, keeping only his head. She walked to the seven spears slanting like fangs and impaled Huang Botao’s head on the first one.

Then, she raised her wide black sleeves and uttered ancient, obscure syllables. The mountain of cultist corpses bulged, something forcing its way out.

Soon, two heads emerged like bamboo shoots after rain, flying into the sky before landing in the High Priest’s uplifted hands. She repeated the process, impaling them on the next two spears.

The crushed and shattered head belonged to Xu Ningnuo; the one blown apart by an arrow was Liang Yue’s.

Like in ancient city massacres, the High Priest displayed the three Cleaners’ heads on spears—a grotesque exhibition, or perhaps a sacrifice.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the four remaining empty spears. An indescribable fear crawled up from the soles of their feet, trembling along their spines. Countless thoughts raced through each mind, but neither new nor veteran players dared to speak.

In the dead silence, Xie Yunzhu’s calm voice broke through: "Don’t forget today’s task. Collect Huang Botao’s blood first."